<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Salt and Pepper Forever by almaasi</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239564">Salt and Pepper Forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi'>almaasi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Elim Garak, Facial Hair, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lonely Elim Garak, Lonely Julian Bashir, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Not-That-Grumpy Old Men, Past Ezri Dax/Julian Bashir, Post-Canon Cardassia, Public Display of Affection, Reunions, Romance, Stubble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:13:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak and Julian reunite after 20 years, and it’s like they’ve never been apart. But there are two notable differences from times past. First, dear Julian is now sporting some very attractive salt-and-pepper stubble. And second? They’re both of the opinion that there’s really no reason for them to part ways again, not for as long as they both shall live.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>281</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Salt and Pepper Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by a dream my sister had where she met Mr. Siddig and told him about my stories, and he had The Stubble, followed by me seeing <a href="https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/613168128659161088/magnetic-rose-does-anyone-have-any-garashir-fic">this post</a> in the Garashir tag on tumblr.</p><p>Beta'd by <a href="https://sippingteabythesea.tumblr.com/">sippingteabythesea</a>, with writerly assistance provided by <a href="https://anupalya.tumblr.com/">anupalya</a>. ♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><br/> <p>In the way that the antiquated term ‘airport’ described a place where ancient travellers came and departed on airplanes, a starport served the same purpose but for the more appropriate vehicles of today. Beyond the forty-foot walls of glass, every manner of shuttle, rocket, and spaceship was docked, grounded from here to the dusty horizon, with nowhere to go but upwards into the burnt orange sky.</p><p>Something about the liminality of people coming from a thousand planets and heading in a thousand directions reminded Julian of Deep Space Nine. It was a halfway place, an in-between world, never constant and not quite real. Of course it was cleaner and newer than DS9 – glossy white-tile floors, echoing cathedral walkways – it was post-war Cardassia, after all. No structure this grand had been standing on the planet for any longer than twenty years.</p><p>Only once he was thoroughly lost inside the starport, grasping at his unhelpful electro-paper map and looking in desperation at the holographic signs hovering here and there, did Julian realise how wrong he’d been to trust himself so blindly. Twenty years of pining had made him incomprehensibly sentimental. Just because his heart yearned for his old friend didn’t mean he’d magically find him in a place this enormous or well-populated.</p><p>So, he imagined where Garak might go, if he was also lost in the thirteen miles between check-in terminal eight and baggage claim twelve, and couldn’t find Julian.</p><p>Julian beamed to a transporter pad at the side of the food court, and peeked out warily.</p><p>A grin began to form, and his eyes began to crinkle, because not thirty feet away was a forlorn-looking seventy-year-old Cardassian standing between silver dining tables, his attention tossed this way and that as he hoped to see a familiar face in the milling crowds.</p><p>His hair remained mostly black, but it had grown, Julian noted as he left his transporter and made his way towards Garak. Well, of course it had grown! In all the time they’d been apart it would have grown enough to wrap around Garak’s portly figure twice over. But it was <i>long</i> now: long to Garak’s mid-back, gripped in a golden clasp just behind his shoulders. It puffed up away from his head when he turned and fell flat again when he looked forward, seeing Julian approach.</p><p>The rapid flutters in Garak’s expression would have been missed by anyone lacking Julian’s enhancements. Uncertain hope whisked into sparkling recognition, then melted to awe which was  shattered entirely by joyous overwhelm. “Doctor,” Garak cried out, softly, achingly – and he began to hurry closer, arms open.</p><p>Julian cackled as he threw his arms over Garak’s shoulders in the middle of the food court. “Hallo, you.”</p><p>Glee rushed into Julian as he inhaled deeply, unashamed of how badly he’d missed Garak’s scent. Oh, but he smelled different from before. The sharpness of metallic rust was gone, replaced by something... gentler. More basal, like a forest floor littered with pine needles. But the sweetness of fabric remained. He was still a tailor. Julian hummed in delight as he exhaled.</p><p>He expected to pull away once a decent hug had been savoured, but found his arms clinging on completely of their own volition. Something tight rose to his throat, and he sobbed, smiling, then started to weep, burying his burning face against Garak’s exposed shoulder ridges. The snuffle of his humid breath was echoed by a sniff from Garak, and Julian pulled back only then, both hands on Garak’s cheeks. Tears streaked Garak’s face too, the whites of his eyes ashine. There was wisdom anew in that blue gaze. Twenty years twinkled faintly inside them like tired starlight.</p><p>“Oh, Doctor,” Garak sighed, as Julian’s smile wibbled, and his thumbs drew under Garak’s curved cheek ridges, wiping away tears. Garak’s warm palms took the backs of Julian’s hands, shaking but firm. “My <i>dearest</i> Julian, I don’t think I have the <i>capacity</i> to explain how dreadfully I’ve missed you.”</p><p>Julian opened his mouth to reply but laughed: a humble and haunted laugh that devolved into a helpless sob yet again. “Ohh, me neither,” he whispered. He fell back into an embrace, his head clutched by Garak, wet Cardassian tears falling on Julian’s neck. Julian’s chest roared with pain, his poor heart feeling too much to process. He’d waited for this moment for so long that it was almost too good to be true now it was really happening.</p><p>Garak moaned in apparent disgrace, and at the tug of his body lowering, Julian thought he wanted to let go, so released him—</p><p>But, overcome by emotion, Garak’s legs gave out, and he slithered to the floor and knelt there. One hand still held the hem of Julian’s embroidered black sherwani like a needy child, and his gaze remained on Julian’s, desperate longing in that wide stare. Julian went to his knees before him, dropping the strap of his shoulder bag and taking both of Garak’s hands. Emotion flooded Julian’s eyes again, and Garak’s smile became a blur of grey until Julian’s tears fell hot down his own cheeks. Garak just stared, lips parted, at a total loss for words. How very unlike him.</p><p>How very unlike them both.</p><p>Garak’s hand went to Julian’s jaw and stroked through his stubble, thumb nuzzling back and forth a few times. They sat for almost thirty seconds, silent. They were not merely recovering from the shock of such abrupt and devastating joy, but feeling it renew again, and again, pouring down like cool summer rain. Julian’s heart pounded, his breath shivering as their eyes held fast and their hands moved to entwine, squeezing tight, palm to palm.</p><p>Footsteps. Julian peered up to see a brown-skinned Bajoran woman carrying a knitted shoulder bag, looking down at them in concern.</p><p>“Are you all right?” she asked Garak. “I can call a medic for you.”</p><p>Julian’s mouth opened and his tears cleared up. He started to smile. “Oh. No. Thank you,” he said, as his shaky voice settled. “I’m a doctor.”</p><p>“Is he okay?” the woman asked Julian. She glanced at Garak twice.</p><p>“A bit overwhelmed.” Julian smiled at Garak, who was still staring at him and crying silently. “Come on, you old lizard, let’s get you on your feet.” Julian got up into a squat, then readied himself to pull Garak up. “On three.”</p><p>Garak got up by himself before Julian said ‘one’, but Julian helped, and Garak grunted. The woman smiled politely, nodded, then went on her way.</p><p>Only once they were standing, forearms clutched around each other, did Garak look away from Julian and after the woman. Surprise dawned on him as he recognised the woman’s Bajoran fashion from behind and realised what kind of person had tried to come to a Cardassian’s aid.</p><p>“Tell me about it,” Julian uttered, as a smile spread. “Twenty years can change everything.”</p><p>“Not everything,” Garak said quietly. He offered Julian a fond look, then averted his gaze. Julian smiled, heart warmed by unsaid implications.</p><p>They went towards the nearest empty table, accidentally remaining hand-in-hand. Julian guided Garak to the first seat, holding onto him until he sat. Julian took the seat opposite, setting his travel bag down by his ankles.</p><p>They stared at each other a little more, then both breathed out a laugh. Garak bowed his head to brush away his tears on the back of a hand, while Julian sniffed and looked around for whoever would bring them some food.</p><p>He made eye contact with a Human-sized hologram giraffe – purple – who trotted forward on its back legs and stood by the table, somehow holding a pen with its hoof, ready to take an order on a glitching hologram notepad.</p><p>Julian couldn’t help but smile at their server’s appearance. “Aaaah,” he said, blank-brained for a moment.</p><p>“Tarkalean tea,” Garak said, giving Julian a kind look. “Extra sweet. And a red leaf tea, if you please,” he added to the giraffe.</p><p>“And—” Julian hesitated. “A variety platter of – something savoury. And another of something sweet. Something we can share.” He checked with Garak, who nodded, and Julian gave the giraffe a smile and watched it trot off again.</p><p>“Another ridiculous Human addition,” Garak said of the giraffe, with mild disdain. “I shudder to think how much of your Terran nonsense has been transposed into Cardassian culture since our provisional leaders made the <i>appalling</i> decision to join the Federation.”</p><p>Julian snorted. “Weren’t you and Kira part of the committee that made the choice to join?”</p><p>“Outvoted, my dear. Very much outvoted.”</p><p>“A<i>ha</i>,” Julian smirked. “Democracy in action. On <i>Cardassia</i>. Things <i>have</i> changed.”</p><p>“Rather for the worse, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Julian went, “Chuh!” then leaned forward, hands open, demanding to know, “So you’re saying this is worse, are you? Big, clean, solid buildings? A thriving intergalactic commercial exchange spanning two Quadrants? Easily accessible medical care? You’re saying <i>this</i> Cardassia is no better than the Cardassia that collapsed in the Dominion War, the Cardassia that took such severe damage <i>because</i> of the political system, because of your blind faith in a government that ultimately served to enslave you to the Founders? Do you really hate holographic giraffes so much that you’d rather go back to <i>that</i>?”</p><p>“You do like to jump to conclusions, don’t you, Doctor?” Garak chortled. “All I’m saying is that there are plenty of <i>native</i> animal species perfectly capable of being miscoloured and anthropomorphised as service staff without having to appropriate one of yours. And for that matter, I can think of better ways to employ real people than to have them service a hologram rather than serve the food directly, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Well, alright – but come <i>on</i>, do you have to be such a spoilsport? It’s just supposed to be a bit of fun. I mean, look around you. Everyone in the starport is exhausted and grumpy and hungry – and sometimes dealing with a real person is just the <i>last</i> thing tired people need. I’d think <i>you</i> of all people would understand that, Mr. Antisocial. Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of you in over four years. It’s like the moment I started looking for you, you went underground.”</p><p>Garak  smiled that coy, delighted smile of his. There were more wrinkles under his eyes and around his mouth, but the sight of him teasing from the other side of a table remained unchanged from memory.</p><p>Julian sighed, smiling back. “My God. It’s like we haven’t been apart at all.”</p><p>“And yet the terrible weight in my heart rather says otherwise,” Garak mentioned.</p><p>At that moment the giraffe served them two steaming teas, and Julian got no chance to comment.</p><p>He sniffed each tea, handed Garak his red leaf, and hugged the Tarkalean brew into his own palms. Two plates followed the teas, set between Garak and Julian. The first platter came sizzling hot and laden with colourful roasted vegetables, well-packed finger foods, and fry-battered morsels, with little bowls of dipping sauces at the side. The jellies and bite-sized puddings on the second platter were so quiet and still that Julian supposed they had to be chilled. Once he saw the ice cream his theory was confirmed.</p><p>He pretended not to be startled when two long Cardassian-style forks and two spoons beamed into existence beside him and Garak, cutlery set on a folded napkin.</p><p>Julian hummed in relief as the first sip of tea warmed him from the top down. Eyes shut, he let the echoes of his tears ache away until they were gone.</p><p>He drew a breath and looked across at Garak, who’d speared a crumbed prawn and was examining it.</p><p>“This one,” Julian said, reaching to tap the edge of a tiny bowl of tartar sauce.</p><p>Garak dipped as directed, and ate cautiously. Unoffended by the taste, he reached for another prawn as he chewed.</p><p>Julian watched him enjoy that mouthful, and then another, smiling all the while.</p><p>“You’re staring, Doctor,” Garak pointed out.</p><p>“Just thinking.”</p><p>“About?”</p><p>“Your hair.” Julian caught Garak’s eyes as he looked up. “I’ve never seen a Cardassian with streaks of grey.”</p><p>“I dye it,” Garak said without preamble, which was surprising. Surely that meant he was lying.</p><p>“Your father had dark hair in his older years,” Julian pointed out. “And I know for a <i>fact</i> that gene is passed down through the male line.”</p><p>“I said I dye it, Doctor, what more do you wish to pry from me? There are a hundred better things to discuss than my physical appearance. Yours, for example. Tell me, why is your face so prickly these days?”</p><p>“Don’t change the subject,” Julian said. “Are you saying you dye it black? Did Tain dye his, too?”</p><p>Garak put down his fork on the edge of his plate, heaving a sigh as he glanced away. “Doctor, if there’s one thing you must know, it’s that after the war, I became quite the well-known figure around here.”</p><p>“By ‘around here’ you mean what remained of the Cardassian Empire, spanning eight planets.”</p><p>“Approximately, yes.” Garak took up his fork and stabbed a Talaxian olive. “And it <i>was</i> a privilege, I realise, for me to be welcomed at any commoner’s doorstep, offered a meal and kanar and a place to sleep when I had no home of my own to speak of. But the fame and fortune of being one of the handful of saviours my people came to honour like few others, of course came with its responsibilities—”</p><p>“Oh, don’t tell me,” Julian chided, “they expected you to drag them all out of the muck.”</p><p>“I did my duty, Doctor. I did it well, and I did it for, oh, a good sixteen years.” He gestured around at the starport food court with the prongs of his fork. “This? This is my doing. Not directly, of course, but by my influence it was made possible.”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Julian said carelessly, being sure not to let Garak think he was in any way impressed.</p><p>“But there comes a time when an old man wishes to fade away once again,” Garak said, as Julian finally started to eat, spearing every last one of the crispy radish slices that Garak surreptitiously pushed towards him because he didn’t like them. “There’s a time and a place for a spymaster to stand in full view and pull the strings: to move a puppet’s mouthpiece with a <i>visible</i> hand. But my best work, Doctor, my best years, they were spent in the shadows. Invisible.”</p><p>“So you disappeared,” Julian said, chewing. “No wonder it was such a nightmare to get hold of you. Four years, Garak! I’ve been trying to find you for <i>four damn years</i>. And then I realised you were in the first place I looked all along. You <i>hid</i> from me.”</p><p>Garak smiled. “In answer to your earlier question: I dye my hair grey. I felt the urge to express a change in outlook with a change in appearance.”</p><p>“Dye? You mean you bleach it lighter?”</p><p>“I said what I said, Doctor. You needn’t question my every word.”</p><p>“Says a liar.”</p><p>“Says a gardener.” Garak smiled. “I’m not the man you knew, my dear friend. You knew me in some of my most despondent years, and we’ve spent three times that length of time apart since. I should hope my appearance would show how much I’ve thrived since then. Apparently not.”</p><p>Julian smirked, head down. “I wasn’t about to say anything, but yes. Between the long hair and the more relaxed tunic, you do look a little bit dashing.”</p><p>“Dashing!” Garak drew his torso up, eyes bright with delight. “Doctor, how I’ve <i>missed</i> the vocabulary you use. And, while we’re exchanging compliments, may I take the opportunity to again remark on your facial hair? Quite, quite intriguing. May I?” His open hand reached towards Julian’s face, hovering eight inches from his cheek.</p><p>Julian didn’t know what Garak wanted, but he nodded in any case, then rushed with heat – <i>oh</i>, goodness – as Garak cradled his jaw and stroked his stubble again.</p><p>“Forgive me,” Garak said quietly. His affectionate gaze roamed between Julian’s jaw and mouth and nose. “Such sights and sensations are beyond rare in my world. As you know Cardassians lack facial hair, and very <i>rarely</i> does our hair pale as we age. To have it go grey or white is a sign of beauty,  grace, and a life well-lived. To see how yours has...” Garak seemed to get lost in gratification for a moment, smiling dazedly. He drew in a slow breath, then said, “It’s really very fetching on you, Doctor. The white, the grey, the black, all mixed in together. Middle age suits you. Perhaps better than youth ever did.”</p><p>He finally drew back, fingers curled to his palm. Julian watched that hand, imagining that Garak’s thumbpad had to be burning after running over the roughness so many times.</p><p>When Garak took up his cutlery to eat again, Julian returned to his own food, only to realise there was already something warm and lumpy in his mouth he’d completely forgotten to chew. He swallowed hard, food scratching his throat on the way down. His eyes darted to Garak twice, then back to his tea, flustered thoughtless by such immediate intimate affections shown in public by a man so <i>private</i>.</p><p>Garak gave an “Ah!” of a thought remembered. “I heard you finally won the Carrington Award! And to my astonishment, you won it for your research into <i>Cardassian</i> physiology.” Garak’s eyes dipped to the platter as he chased the last olive around and caught it against a Makapa crouton; he speared the crouton too. “Belated it may be, but I wish to offer my most hearty congratulations. Not least because you discovered all you did with<i>out</i> my help.” He held Julian’s eyes as he bowed his head.</p><p>“I won that thing three years ago,” Julian tutted. “Garak, for God’s sake. You <i>knew</i> I was trying to hunt you down, didn’t you? You’ve watched me closely enough to know I won the award, which means you knew I’d been remotely probing every city and sector and countryside inn from here to the Delta Quadrant trying to find you!”</p><p>“As I’ve said,” Garak uttered, pausing to sip his tea, “there comes a time when a man wishes not to be found.”</p><p>“So you <i>let</i> me find you, is that it?” Julian demanded. “Two months ago you just woke up and decided, aha, it’s time to slip Dr. Julian Bashir a <i>clue</i>?”</p><p>“If you’ll recall, I <i>was</i> the one who invited you here.”</p><p>Julian slumped with a sigh, smirking despite his ire. “So why now?”</p><p>Garak’s eyes twinkled with secrets. Julian drew a content breath and thrummed with a deep pleasure, adoring that familiarity. Garak didn’t need to lie to be interesting; he only needed to withhold a few truths and give Julian something to work for.</p><p>Soon Garak said, “I maintain a small, modest home, these days. I built it to border an <i>extraordinary</i> grassland and a red leaf forest. The garden – one of my prime achievements, I must say – boasts a good many wildflowers. Although, to my chagrin, some blooms have taken to growing rather outside of their designated lots. But taming them does keep me busy, and for that I can’t be ungrateful.”</p><p>“Any poisonous flowers amongst your pretty tribe?”</p><p>“Not one.” Garak smiled. “My home is a safe haven, Doctor. A respite from all the horrors that made up my world before. You’d quite adore the sunroom, I think. We can take tea in there each day, and it would be beyond compare.”</p><p>Julian tried to smile, but an over-eager flutter in his belly made him nervous. Garak spoke as if Julian was invited to his home, and Julian <i>wanted</i> to go – that was what he’d come for. And it wasn’t as if he had anywhere else to go after this, or wanted to be anywhere but where Garak took him. But there was a danger that if he went, he wouldn’t leave. What would come of their lives, then? What meaning would Garak’s private retreat retain if it was no longer private? What would come of all the recognition Julian had worked for if he gave it up to hide in a cottage in the middle of nowhere?</p><p>“You hesitate,” Garak noted, lowering his tea. “Does a sunroom not appeal? I’ll admit there’s some stubborn moss growing on the glass roof, so there’s really not as much sun as all that.”</p><p>Julian started to grin a little lopsidedly, head tilting. “Ahhh. It’s not that. It sounds lovely, Garak, it really does.”</p><p>“Then what of the thought of visiting my handcrafted homestead after two decades gives you pause?”</p><p>Julian actually laughed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. It’s just...” He sighed, eyes roaming to the gargantuan panels of the window, which curved up to become the ceiling. Sunlight glazed the surface and annointed Julian’s cheeks with late afternoon warmth. “Maybe I need to tell you something first. I don’t want you inviting me home without knowing the full story.”</p><p>“Whatever do you mean?”</p><p>Julian swallowed. “Um. See.” He peered into his tea, then drank a few sips all at once, finding it lukewarm. Then, with a sigh, he put down the mug and swished his pursed lips to one side. “Ezri and I... got a divorce.”</p><p>Garak’s eye ridges rose. “My-my-my,” he said. “You and Ezri were married, were you?”</p><p>Julian grinned, knowing Garak was teasing. “Yes, Garak, we were married. For seventeen years.”</p><p>That fact actually seemed to affect Garak; a wary shadow flitted through his eyes and his posture withdrew by half an inch. “Quite the relationship,” he said, too guardedly. Apparently he hadn’t known how long the marriage had lasted, and finding out unnerved him. “My condolences for your...” He trailed off. “Or perhaps, congratulations are in order?”</p><p>Julian shrugged, smiling. “IIII’ll take a little of both.” His smile dimmed, his belly fluttered, and he wrung his hands around his mug, gnawing the inside of his lower lip.</p><p>“Seventeen years...” Garak fixated on that fact, staring at the last prawn on the otherwise empty platter. “You must have separated around the time you won your award.”</p><p>Julian’s eyes shot to him. “What makes you say that?”</p><p>“Seventeen years of marriage...? Seventeen together and three apart makes twenty altogether, Doctor. Must I get a pen and a napkin and count it out for you?”</p><p>“Oh.” Julian huffed an uncertain laugh. “No. No, we got married three years <i>after</i> the war.”</p><p>Garak lowered his tea hastily. “I see. A fresh wound.”</p><p>Julian gave a lazy half-blink and a sneaky smile. “Fresher, yet less painful than you’d imagine.”</p><p>Something about Julian’s tempting tone made Garak hesitate over another sip of tea. Instead, he stared.</p><p>“We broke up twelve days ago,” Julian confessed.</p><p>Garak put down his mug, knuckles paling as he gripped the handle still. “But you came from Earth.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“Warp nine?”</p><p>“Nine-point-five.”</p><p>Garak’s breath caught. He swallowed, relaxed his hand on his mug, and looked away. Obviously he’d realised that it took twelve days at that speed to get from Earth to Cardassia. Which meant that the moment Julian had divorced Ezri he’d hopped on a ship and come straight to him.</p><p>Garak’s voice trembled faintly, as he asked, “Forgive me for prying, Doctor, but may I ask why you and dear Ezri went your separate ways? Was it the result of a fight? A difference of opinion? Diverging desires too great to ignore? Or did you simply grow weary of each other after so long?”</p><p>Julian swallowed around nothing, shrugging a shoulder. He reached to pick up the last prawn in his fingertips, dipping it into the tartar and slowly putting it into his mouth. He chewed it and took his time, letting its tart flavour and crunch tingle at his tastebuds. He wanted to word his answer correctly, and if Garak had to wait, so be it.</p><p>Eventually Julian swallowed and washed down his mouthful with some barely-warm tea.</p><p>“I, um.” Julian gulped again, struggling to meet Garak’s eyes, and then deciding it was safer not to, lest his eyes well up again. “I still had... feelings for someone else. And it was fine for a long time, we talked about it, she was understanding. But eventually we realised it was interfering too much with our own relationship. I wasn’t <i>un</i>happy with her, not at all,” he said quickly, in case Garak got the wrong idea. “And obviously she’ll always be special to me, and I to her. It’s just that when I was with her, I was constantly wondering... ‘what if’. More and more as the years went on. What if I missed my chance with this other person? What if it’s too late? Will I ever <i>know</i> what I missed, or am I... driving myself mad, imagining out a life that was never meant for me? But – what if it’s <i>not</i> too late? What if I <i>could</i> be with them? Because I— I <i>want</i> to be. I really do. I’ve wanted that for a long time.”</p><p>Julian palmed his forehead, eyes darting away frantically, fighting to find the right words, then giving up and just spouting whatever came to his lips. “I want to have a future with them. Get... Get <i>married</i> again. To the person I love. Still love, after all this time. I couldn’t admit I loved them so long ago, because it was— I wasn’t sure. The circumstances weren’t right. I wasn’t ready; they weren’t ready. It wasn’t the right time. It wasn’t possible, almost, because of everything that was going on around us. And I don’t know for certain that anything’s truly different now, not really. But I don’t want to be this – <i>dissatisfied</i>.”</p><p>His voice finally cracked under the pressure of his emotion, and he forced out, throat aching, “I can’t let the rest of my life go by and not even try to find that satisfaction. For too many years I’ve been pining for a fantasy – but I’m not even sure it can exist in reality. For a long time I figured, well, it couldn’t happen. So I did nothing. But... I have to try, don’t I? I have to at least ask. That’s what Ezri told me.”</p><p>He finally lifted his eyes to Garak, finding him peering back with pure defeat in his expression.</p><p>“Ezri is right, Doctor,” Garak said tonelessly. “And you too are correct in turning down my offer.” He exhaled, eyes turned away. “You love this person immensely, it’s clear just from the way you speak. You deserve nothing more than to be happy with one you love so dearly. Thus, I suggest, Doctor, you go on with your journey to find this lover of yours at the earliest opportunity. Taking tea in the sunroom,” he sighed quietly, “would remain far more splendid in your mind’s eye, I’m quite certain.”</p><p>Julian suppressed his smile, taking a perverse pleasure in letting Garak get the wrong end of the stick. But enjoyment faded to worry, and he impressed, quietly, “Garak, as much as I want him... I’m not entirely sure he wants me.”</p><p>Garak was visibly surprised by the change in pronoun. He stared at Julian, lips parting.</p><p>Julian smiled more softly now, but remained wary. “I don’t know if he— He might’ve found someone else, in the time we’ve been apart. I know he’s so <i>terribly</i> fond of me, and I’ll bet anything he still finds me both attractive and interesting. But I’m worried he might not want to marry me after all. Chances are I’ll be rejected, and I divorced my wife and came all this way for nothing. And then I’m lonely <i>and</i> single.” Julian shrugged and looked down into the dregs of his tea. “And I don’t know what I’d do then, I really don’t. Perhaps it was nonsensical to pin the rest of my life on the off-chance that he waited for me. But it would’ve been worse to go to my grave not knowing.”</p><p>Garak blinked twice, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He sniffed and sat up straighter, haughtily suggesting, “If we had any sense at all, Doctor, you and I would marry <i>each other</i>.”</p><p>“...Pardon?”</p><p>“I feel the obligation to point out that this long-lost lover of yours seems inherently uncommunicative in his desires, and I can’t imagine you being content in the long term with someone who keeps back anything so private as his own feelings. If you were to marry it ought to be to someone who states – quite clearly! – that he wishes to court you, and treat you to a life abundant with affection and intrigue, in a loving home, in a caring community with plenty of medical and social work to attend to, for the long remainders of both your days.”</p><p>Julian was thoroughly taken aback by that response. “Ah— Ih— Wait, I’m sorry, are you saying—”</p><p>“The sunroom is the most impressive room, it’s true, but there are several bedrooms for you to pick from, including my own, and I’d be happy to redecorate or remodel should the architecture not please you to the utmost, although I have tried to incorporate shapes and functional designs you’ve previously expressed a liking for. My library is <i>most</i> extensive, and I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a delivery service so you can procure any physical tomes which—” Garak paused, seeing Julian’s dazed, teary-eyed stare. “Dear me, Doctor, is something the matter?”</p><p>“No. No.” Julian shook his head, smiling hopelessly. “<i>Uncommunicative</i>, you say?”</p><p>Garak nodded once, annoyed. “I don’t know <i>what</i> kind of virtuoso this imbecile thinks he is, but <i>you</i>, my dear Julian, deserve far better than some backward, self-serving, loathsome reptile for a lover.”</p><p>Julian chuckled, resting his stubbled cheek on a hand, head tilted as he gazed in awe at Garak. “Told you, Garak. We needed twenty years.”</p><p>Garak grunted. “I certainly did, in any case.”</p><p>“Tell me about your library.”</p><p>“Ten thousand books in a hundred languages, dear Julian, scavenged from the rubble and sourced from collectors of the rarest titles across the Quadrant. I’d venture there’s even some among the collection you might actually <i>enjoy</i>.”</p><p>Julian threw his head back laughing, almost tipping the chair on its heels. Other diners turned to look, smiling when they saw how happy he was, then returned to their own lives as Julian slumped forward again, beaming at his future husband.</p><p>“I shall teach you the art of gardening,” Garak said matter-of-factly. “The pastime is not so different from practising medicine, I imagine. There is much upkeep, diagnosis, and surgery to do. Not all of it is cosmetic.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And we shall dine together at a small yet intricate table laid perfectly each night, listen to the songs of the night crickets, and sleep soundly in a bed I carved myself.”</p><p>Julian had never felt so comfortably warm, yet so awake. “And?”</p><p>“And... does any of this suit your fantasy?”</p><p>“I’ll be honest, every made-up life was different,” Julian admitted. “But between fifty of them? Yes. Yes.” He reached over the table with an open hand, and Garak took it, smiling widely. “Yes.”</p><p>“Any additions you’d care to make?”</p><p>Julian chuckled, eyes lowering to their joined hands. He bowed down, pulling Garak’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. He breathed out against the finest silver scales, then lifted his eyes and face to peer up at Garak. “Just promise me you’re not too old to make love to me.”</p><p>Garak started to tear up, but he was smiling. “I’ll do my best, my dear.”</p><p>Julian grinned, letting himself flood with the most glorious feelings, so intense and gigantic that he felt <i>love</i> pressing on his ribs from inside, tight under his skin, pulsating, hot and sparkly and leaving him breathless. He bent all the way down and rested his forehead on their joined hands, fingers laced together between the plates.</p><p>Garak’s free hand stroked into Julian’s hair. “Might I tell you something I’ve never once permitted myself to say?”</p><p>Julian looked up.</p><p>Garak smiled so tenderly, so softly. The expression echoed some fleeting looks he’d offered twenty years since, but this time it was not fleeting, and his affection was offered openly. Yet when it came time to speak, he all but choked on his unsaid words and had to look down.</p><p>Julian bit his lip in a grin, sitting up, still holding Garak’s hand. “Maybe after twenty-<i>one</i> years you’ll say it.”</p><p>But Garak looked so horribly ashamed, and Julian saw the self-flagellation sprint through his mind – <i>twenty-six years in love and you still can’t tell him you love him!</i> – but Julian assured Garak in the most heartfelt whisper, “Elim... You waited. You found out I was looking for you and spent four years as a recluse, building me a <i>house</i>. You invited me, and then waited another two months for me to divorce Ezri and get here, never knowing whether I would care to do either. For God’s sake, you don’t need to tell me anything. I already know.” He kissed his hand. “Garak, <i>I already know.</i>”</p><p>He gave Garak’s hand a good squeeze, sitting up once more.</p><p>Garak had such gratitude shining from within him. It was majestic to behold. Julian had never once seen him so at peace. As it happened, that kind of satisfaction was reflected in Julian like Garak was a mirror.</p><p>Julian drew a breath in, happy, and slowly let go of Garak’s hand. He took up a spoon instead and hummed ponderously at the selection of puddings before them. “Now, let’s see. Ooooh, an Idanian spiced pudding! I’ll take that, ‘scuse me.” He scooped the mini pudding towards his side of the platter.</p><p>Garak laughed to himself. With his own spoon, he dug around between tartlets and jellies to find the melted ice cream, then dipped a finger-plucked sugar pastry into it. He popped the thing into his mouth, then sucked sugar off his thumb.</p><p>They tucked deeper into their shared dessert, making appreciative comments as they went.</p><p>Julian once glanced up, and had to slap a hand over his mouth before his huge grin let his food fall out. He hum-chuckled into his fist, bright eyes set again and again on the beaming Cardassian opposite him.</p><p>“You should keep it,” Garak said, and Julian lacked context, but waited until it appeared: “The hair on your face.”</p><p>“I was planning to keep it,” Julian mumbled, chewing a Delavian chocolate cream puff in his cheek.</p><p>“Oh,” Garak replied. “I just thought perhaps you hadn’t shaved during the time you’ve travelled.”</p><p>“I hadn’t. But <i>you</i> like it.” Julian stroked the backs of his fingers against his jaw, grinning. “So it’s staying.”</p><p>Garak’s eyes crinkled in his delight. “How thoughtful you are.”</p><p>Julian swept Garak’s hand from the table and put one more kiss on the back of it. He then turned his hand over and kissed Garak’s palm, breathing out until Garak’s fingers twitched at the tickle.</p><p>And then those fingers were upon Julian’s face again, cradling his chin, a thumb drawn across his lips to wipe away a smudge of whipped cream. Julian let out a quiet sigh of contentment, eyes shut as he tilted his head into the touch.</p><p>He felt Garak’s fingers tug his chin...</p><p>Julian realised he was being summoned, so leaned in across the table to meet Garak halfway. No hesitation, no pause for breath. They touched lips as sweetly as ice cream coated sugar pastry, the contact as spiky as pepper and savoury as salt. Garak’s knee slipped between Julian’s under the table, too, legs pressed together. They exhaled against each other’s firming kiss; Julian hummed a long and relaxed note, and Garak <i>growled</i> in an unmistakably happy-Cardassian way.</p><p>They parted with lopsided smiles and twice-licked lips, sitting back once more to return to their food, recover their breaths, and calm their excited hearts.</p><p>“Yes, by the way,” Julian said.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll marry you.”</p><p>Garak chuckled. “My dear...” Conspiratorially, he leaned forward and imparted a secret: “<i>I already know</i>.”</p><p>Julian rolled his eyes, then stole the last cream puff before Garak hoarded it. Garak complained with an offended yelp, but didn’t even try and steal it back. Julian ate half, and then shoved the rest towards Garak, who thanked him in quiet surprise, having expected nothing.</p><p>The people of the starport bustled around them, their movements drifting into one colourful, indiscernible blur. Amidst it all, Garak and Julian sat, falling back into conversations that had been paused for twenty years, babbling and debating and jabbing their cutlery at innocent pastries to make their dissent known.</p><p>For now, they dined in a court that was effectively a non-place, as it was the temporary station of people on their way somewhere else. But by the evening they’d be home, enjoying the dinner they’d made together, sitting with ankles entwined underneath the wooden bench in the long grass as the grassland whispered and swayed in patterns reaching towards the sunset.</p><p>For the last twenty years, Julian had wondered what he might have missed with Garak, fretting over what he was currently missing, craving whatever he was yet to miss.</p><p>But from that night onwards, over years, he would slowly come to realise that there had been nothing <i>lost</i> throughout those distant decades, only gained. He’d become more sure of his desires, ridding himself of toxic expectations from others and from himself. Garak had grown into his truths at long last. They had been a good match for each other before, so rife with flaws, but they were perfect now, with completely different yet equally complementary weaknesses. Could they have healed themselves together instead of apart? Probably. And they would’ve gotten there faster, Julian suspected. But they hadn’t. Besides, they got there anyway, so it didn’t matter.</p><p>Love for the wrong person had felt like a curse before. But now? A cosmic gift could be recognised and received only when Julian was open to letting <i>everything</i> change. Only once he’d embraced what he truly wanted – and then actively chased it, rather than merely dreaming, he understood the splendor of what he’d had all along. This love had never been a curse. He just hadn’t been able to see ‘the wrong person’ for what he truly was.</p><p>Garak was made for him.</p><p>And Julian had never been more open to anything than he was for the life that would come after.</p><p>It was never too late.</p><p>Never.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>{ the end }</b>
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>♥ <a href="https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/613167410007228416/garashir-reunion-20-years-older-and-still">Here's the art on tumblr!</a><br/>♥ <a href="https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/613168128659161088/magnetic-rose-does-anyone-have-any-garashir-fic">The post that inspired this fic~</a></p><p>Thank you SO MUCH for reading, and reblogging my art, and leaving me much-appreciated comments and kudos. I really, truly adore this little fandom and the amount of LOVE you all have. ;u;</p><p>I hope you're all safe and... y'know, surviving. And I hope this was a nice little respite from the whole <i>Oh My God The World</i> thing that's happening. <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&amp;commit=Sort+and+Filter&amp;work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&amp;include_work_search%5Bfandom_ids%5D%5B%5D=8474&amp;work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&amp;work_search%5Bquery%5D=&amp;work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&amp;user_id=almaasi">There's plenty more Garashir fics where this came from!</a> And more arriving soon, so <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi">subscribe if you're interested</a>. ♥</p><p>Elmie x</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>